


We'll Always Have JFK

by 100demons



Series: five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>What did I tell you?</i>, Bruce moaned at his hindbrain. <i>Stop it. Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking right now.</i></p><p><i>Boobs</i>, his hindbrain said solemnly. <i>Big ones.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Always Have JFK

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endquestionmark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endquestionmark/gifts).



This is how he wanted it to have gone:

 

“Banner. Bruce Banner. Nice to meet you, Ms…?”

“Lewis. Darcy Lewis.” Take glasses off, tuck them into a shirt pocket and smile. Reach out with your hand and take hers. Ignore elevated heart rate and increased vasodilation in the facial area. Relax. Let her hand go after four seconds—not long enough to maker her think you’re a creep, but not short enough to be rude. Make a small joke or two to ease the tension while surreptitiously admiring the beautiful highlights in her hair.

Chat for a while, exchange numbers, and promise to keep in touch.

(The Hulk doesn’t exist.)

 

This is how it went:

“Hey, you okay? Hello? Anyone home?”

For one terrifyingly long moment, Bruce saw green in front of his eyes. _I’m not angry, I’m not angry, I’m not angry_ , he panicked, choking on the hard peppermint candy that decided to slide down into his windpipe and kill him. _I’m—I’m—_

“I know, they’re great, but could you stop staring at my boobs? Trust me, they’re not the ones that are talking to you right now.”

 _Well,_ Bruce considered, as his heart tried to climb up his throat and make friends with the candy that was trying to climb down. _Maybe Hulking out would be better than this._

 __“Oh my god—oh my god, are you choking? Don’t tell me my awesomeness is making you seize like that. Holy shit, Jean was right, I need to come with a warning or something: High Concentrations of Darcy Lewis May Be Lethal. Friend With Caution. Ack, okay, okay, now is not the time to make funny jokes, someone’s dying right in front of me. Be cool, be cool. Alright, one, two, three—“

_Whack._

The piece of candy flew out of his mouth and hit his palm, nearly drawing blood with its force. Bruce wheezed again, glasses nearly falling off of his nose, and managed to wipe his mouth with a sleeve. _Piece of candy almost manages to do what a bullet didn’t_ , he mused a little bitterly, considering the hacked up glob of spit and candy sitting innocently in his hand.

“And he lives!”

Bruce blinked owlishly and the greenish haze in front of him resolved into a chest and a pair of large and rather—

 _Squish that thought dead_. Bruce realized with growing horror that his unfortunate savior (and near murderer) was a young woman wearing a green shirt and that he was staring at very ah—

 _What did I tell you?_ , Bruce moaned at his hindbrain. _Stop it. Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking right now._

 _Boobs_ , his hindbrain said solemnly. _Big ones_.

“Um,” Bruce said.

“Here, I think you’ll need this.” A wad of paper napkins was shoved into his face none too gently.

“Um,” he said again.

“…Is that all you say?”

“No?” Bruce tried. Never mind his half a dozen PhDs, his groundbreaking work in gamma radiation, and The Other Guy. In face of—of—

“Darcy Lewis. Sorry for nearly killing you—and saving you! Which I guess sort of cancels each other out, right? So I guess you could say we’re even.” The woman—Darcy, her name was Darcy—leaned down and delicately draped a napkin over the piece of peppermint suspended in saliva in his hand.

“I just wanted to let you know that you dropped your book onto the floor.”

“Oh, God,” Bruce said faintly. “Can we pretend that the last five minutes never happened?”

“What happens in JFK, stays in JFK,” Darcy nodded sagely. “Pinkie promise.”

Cheeks flushing a deep red, he wiped his hand clean and stood up from his seat. “Bruce Banner. I would offer to shake your hand but…uh…” He mimed coughing into his hand, oh so suavely.

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved it off dismissively. “My sister has a little poop machine for a kid and I’ve seen pretty much everything. You barely hit a three on my scale.”

“That sounds…lovely,” Bruce said dryly and offered her the seat next to him with an outstretched hand. _Pretty_ , his hindbrain cooed. _Pretty hair._

 _Periodic table,_ Bruce threatened. _From hydrogen to ununoctium._

 _Meep_.

Darcy sank into the hard airport seat with a loud _thump_ , looking positively boneless. “So, Pema Chödrön?”

“Sorry?”

She gestured at the book sitting on the floor, underneath his chair. “ _The Places that Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times._ My mom’s into that Buddhism stuff.

“Oh, well.” Leaning down, he picked it up and casually flipped through the pages. “Just some plane reading,” he said, trying to look nonchalant and failing. “It looked interesting and I have a long flight ahead of me.”

“I’m guessing you’re not a spiritual sort of man, huh?” Darcy grinned. “No wait, let me guess. You’re for _science._ ”

“Well, yes, actually,” Bruce said, surprised. “How did you—“

“Dork glasses, science journals stuffed in your briefcase, scruffy nerd clothing, pen marks all over your fingers, three day old stubble. Am I Sherlock Holmes or what?” Darcy said smugly, buffing her fingernails.

“Or what,” he smiled at her. “Nuclear physicist at your service. Well, former.” His smile slipped a little. “I’m not exactly working right now.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on some year-long sabbatical to write a book or something?” she teased, cheeks dimpling.

“You could say that,” Bruce said slowly. _That’s actually not a bad idea_.

“Ten bucks you’ll never end up writing one,” she said promptly and reached out with an open hand.

“Deal.” He grabbed her hand and sealed the deal before he even knew it. 

“I’ll hold you to it, Dr. Banner.” She gave him a crooked smile and his heart decided to make its way back up his throat.

_“All passengers for Flight No. 5647, please head to Gate 4. The flight will depart in ten minutes.”_

“That’s my plane.”

With a start, Bruce realized he was still holding her hand. “Oh—I guess—“

She squeezed gently and pulled back. “It was nice saving you, Dr. B, but New Mexico’s calling to me.”

“We’ll always have JFK,” he said mock-solemnly. “Travel safely.

“Don’t worry, I have a taser.”

Bruce quirked a brow. “I think I’m worried more for your fellow passengers now,” he said wryly.

Darcy laughed and turned away. “Just go and write that book. I’ll be looking for it on the bestseller list.”

“I’ll have a signed copy ready for you.”

She waved at his general direction and a couple of blinks later, disappeared completely into the rush of people headed for Everywhere But Here.

“Goodbye, Darcy Lewis.”

 _Goodbye_ , his hindbrain said mournfully. _Goodbye pretty hair. Goodbye big boobs._

Bruce didn’t even have the heart to yell at his hindbrain, especially when they were of the same mind.

“Nice going, Banner—setting yourself up for—for—something you can’t ever have.” _Something I don’t deserve to have._ He looked down at his worn and calloused hands, splattered with spots of black ink. “Thanks for everything, Big Guy,” he said softly. “Thanks for all of it—I can’t imagine what life would be like without you.”

(But he could, a little, and it had a dark haired woman in green, with dimples and a taser in her pocketbook.)

**Author's Note:**

> Blame ashcheche. SHE MADE ME DO THIS. 
> 
> (Also a thank you gift for her lovely Tasha/Darcy fic, _find the time to find the words_. Go read it! It's amazing.)


End file.
